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We haggle, me mutterin’, “My precious coin!” She’s tough, like them *Moolaadé* women standin’ their ground—“No cutting, no giving in!” she’d fit right in, I reckon. Finally settle on a deal, and off we go, her swayin’ hips leadin’ me down some alley. Heart’s poundin’—happy as a pig in muck, I am! But then—surprise!—some bloke jumps out, her pimp probly, all “Gimme yer cash, ya twit!” Made me ragey, precious, oh yes! I swing me fist—carpenter’s hands, hard as oak—and he’s down, groanin’. “We purify!” I hiss, like in the movie, feelin’ righteous, yeah?

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After that, I decide to hit up the local market on Sunday. It’s on the corner of Whakarewa St and I’m telling ya, it’s a vibe. Fresh produce, handmade crafts, and the best part? The people! Everyone’s so chill. I grab some fresh strawberries, and they’re like candy. I’m in heaven again.

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